Danger, Toils and Snares
by HurricaneRain
Summary: It's been a month since Spencer and Toby broke up, and after the revelation Spencer can hardly pick up the pieces, but soon she will discover her darkest secret yet. How an earth can she bring a child into this world, when she can hardly keep herself in this god damned town? Rated M for darker themes and upcoming chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**I'm seriously considering making this into a full length fic, I just have so many ideas lol. Please tell me if you agree, as I'm pretty sure I'll end this abruptly. Oh, and this is dark and depressing, so be warned. (Sidenote: DAMN THIS IS LONG! This isn't even the full version, I cut a lot out :L) This was a prompt of tumblr, but I just have too many idea to just leave it there. So yush, I may continue as a full length fic :3**

* * *

Spencer Hastings was gone. Veronica and Peter Hastings had searched high and low for their beloved daughter for the past two days. Her friends still were searching; thinking of every possible place their friend could be. There was no note left, no warning, nothing. She just vanished. Aria, Hanna and Emily first saw warning signs when their friend didn't show up for school. They called on her, asking Veronica where she was, who claimed she though Spencer had gone to school. Spencer didn't show for a second day running, by which time everyone was worried. The girls searched school, the woods, Spencer's lake house cabin, Wren's house, everywhere. Well, at least they thought everywhere. There was one painfully obvious place they hadn't searched - Lost Woods Resort.

"I guess that's the last of it," she murmured to herself, packing the last of her belongings densely into an ancient rucksack. It was amazing how she had literally spent less than 48 hours in the dingy motel room - yet her belonging seemed to already be dispersed in every dirty corner. She supposed she had to go home - although almost no prospect in the world seemed more daunting. She knew her parents would be beyond furious, as would her friends, but Spencer had to leave. She couldn't stay and face the people who she knew would be disappointed in her when they discovered the truth. Her father would disown her if he could, and maybe if Veronica didn't cut her off - she would freeze her out - forgetting that she was her flesh and blood. Her friends? They'd just look at her with that combination of pity and anger that they'd mastered these past few weeks. How would they look at her now? Traitor? Whore? Hypocrite?

She remembered Aria's exact words at homecoming the year before - "Do you have some genius plan of sleeping with the enemy?"

It was three weeks ago. It was pouring with rain; and had been for the past three days. She'd run off into the storm - unsure of where to go. She had hoped that somehow, she'd run into something or someone that could help her gather her wandering thoughts. Somehow her confusion led her to him; still in his infamous black attire. They agreed that the night would be forgotten - erased from time. Not only for her sake - but also for his. Mona would murder Toby if she found out he was fraternizing with the enemy after it was no longer needed, and no exaggeration on the word murder.

After her and Toby had their first time, Spencer would occasionally take a pregnancy test, just it case. To her horror; just a few days after that forbidden night beneath the gloomy, grey skies of Rosewood, the test ticked green. She was pregnant.

How an earth could she bring a child into this world? She'd learned life was just woe after woe, simply seventy or so years of pain and misery. Anyway, what would that child be like? Would it be mad like it's mommy? Would it be sociopathic and evil like it's daddy? Or both? No, she couldn't bring life into this dark and lonely place, she could hardly bring herself to face this dark world without going insane.

It wasn't like it would be a healthy pregnancy anyway. She hadn't been eating properly - not had she been sleeping. She was haunted by a recurring nightmare of her own child - a creature so dark and disturbed it was no longer human. She'd wake up sweating and screaming, searching around the sweat and tear drenched sheets for someone that could hold her and tell her everything was okay, but then she'd remember she wasn't allowed to hope for that anymore.

Any baby would be lucky to survive with the amount of alcohol in her. She wasn't drunk - but it was definitely too much for a woman with child.

The pain and suffering was what -A wanted. They wanted to see her break, to see her fall into the flaming inferno. Maybe they'd be happy that Toby had truly left his mark on her. They wanted to see her fall, her child fall, her friends fall. Fear wasn't enough, they wanted something that ate away at you, that rotted you until you were as good as dead. Self hatred.

She couldn't give them that satisfaction. She'd finish what they started and beat them to it. The thought had been lurking in the back of her mind for awhile now; the thought of suicide. It was her own fault really - for letting this whole thing get so spoiled and twisted.

What would it be? Live life as -A's puppet - forever cut down and tormented until just a shadow is left, or end it all. Take the easy way out.

Toby had a friend from reform school who killed himself. He had suffered a mental disorder known as Dissociative Identity Disorder. Most of this time he was a nice enough kid who lived in his own world. However, if the wind was blowing in the right direction, or someone said something insignificant, he transform into a person completely unrelated to who he really was - a murderous sociopath. That sociopath had no problem shooting his five year old sister. He transformed back into his primary identity, who broke down at the sight of his already dead baby sister. The parents came back later that day to find the two children side by side; shot with the same gun and by the same man. The boy just couldn't live with himself.

After telling her that story, Toby stared right at her, with his silver-blue eyes, and said "Life isn't like a video game. When things get tough and you feel like you're loosing, you can't just quit."

Like he understood. He wasn't the tormented, just the tormenter. He wouldn't know the feeling of self loathing, he didn't understand. If he could see her - maybe he would. Sometimes quitting is the only option.

That was that. She did wish her last meeting with her friends would have been a more pleasant one - she remembered they'd fought for hours on end. As for her parents, she knew they'd be upset and mourn her for awhile, but they had the capability to get over her. Her friends? Maybe not, but perhaps that would fuel their desire to bring down -A.

The brunette contemplated her methods, her mind skimming across the dark archives of suicide methods.

_Poison_. She doubted even creepy Harold stored poison in the cabinets of the motel, and she didn't exactly carry corrosive fluids in her backpack. She skipped onto the next option, shooting. Yes it was fast, but it was unlikely she would be able to find a gun at two in the mourning, in an old, secluded hotel buried in a deep and creepy wood. Finally she thought of her most obvious option – hanging. She knew vaguely how to tie a hangman's noose, but the question was what exactly she'd use. Her mind skimmed through possible rope substitutes, to no prevail. Sighing, she searched through her suitcase, to find nothing of use. Furiously she packed the clothes, books and tights into the backpack. She'd just have to think of another way.

Tights.

She picked them up, her heart beating frantically. They weren't the strongest, but if she could tie a few together she might just be able to tie a sustainable noose. The only thing that interrupted her dark thoughts, just for a split second, was the unshakable and omnipresent feeling that someone was watching her. Impossible, she bolted the doors.

She set to work, nothing but the lonely and hypnotic drumming of the rain to accompany her. She was a novice, her hands fumbling and slipping with the tears streaming from her swollen brown eyes. Repeatedly she told herself it wasn't just for her benefit but the child living inside of her.

If she let that thing inside her live, it would be a living, breathing, person. Just another pig lined up for slaughter.

The pole that the shower curtain in the bathroom seemed perfectly logical. Dragging a small stool just beside it, she wondered if she should say any sort of goodbyes to her friends and family. Not face to face obviously, but perhaps a note. She rummaged through the creaky rosewood drawers of the room, settling for a yellowing piece of A4 paper. She kept an ink pen in her bag, and after bringing it over sat to work on her last goodbyes. Before she could help it, the tears came cascading down her broken face.

_Dear Mom, Dad, Aria, Hanna and Emily,_

_I know you've have been searching for me, and I'm sorry for worrying you. I couldn't stay in Rosewood too long. It __holds__ held too many… memories, and I couldn't take it. I'm so sorry for being this way, I guess you all already realized I was on the brink of insanity. So I guess I just tipped over._

Her salty tears began too cascade, smudging the carefully written ink words. Se forced herself to go on, ignoring how she just wanted to run, run from this forsaken town and forget her troubles.

_I discovered something last night that changed everything. I can't let myself get in your way any longer, and if you knew the truth you'd hate me almost as much as I hate myself. Mom, I'll miss you and dad getting in my business, it wouldn't be the same if you didn't. Emily, I'll miss how you always see the good in people even if they can't see it themselves. Hanna, I'll miss your bravery, and don't worry, I'll miss your amazing taste in fashion as well. As for Aria, as I always said, you may be little but you're big. Please take care, all of you. Especially of Aria, she's just so tiny. I'll miss you, please miss me._

_-Spencer_

A knock at the door interrupted her, knocking her out of a trance. She ignored, hoping the intruder would go away. She waited, yet the person wouldn't go away, just knocking once again. Spencer panicked, had they found her? Would her friends try and stop her. She thought her tracks were untraceable, she'd used a fake name at reception, how could they possibly know she was here? Had they figured out this was the place you came when you didn't want to be found?

"Spencer, are you in there? I-It's me, Toby." Spencer froze, dropping the pen in hand. _No, it couldn't be_. "Please Spencer," he asked again, "Please let me in."

Her hand shook, her mind racing across the multiple possibilities of why exactly he was here. 1) –A business, he was trying to hurt or manipulate her 2) He was helping to search for her, in an attempt to make himself look more innocent, 3) he genuinely cared about where she was.

She refused to let herself believe the last option, knowing that false hope would only pull her back into her own personal pit of despair.

"Wh-what are you doing here?" she croaked, her voice thick with tears.

The shadow at the door paused, before adding tactically, "You're family said you were missing."

Spencer sniffed, "And how exactly did you know I would be here?"

The question seemed to stir something in Toby, before he said quietly, "It's the sort of place you go when you don't want to be found."

She thudded to the door, opening it just ever so slightly.

"I know what you're doing Spencer and I'd just like to let you know I'm not going to let you."

She laughed without smiling "and what makes you think you can do anything?"

"I guess I'm here to finish what I started." He murmured, "Now please let me in, Spence, and please listen."

Hesitantly she swung the door open, revealing a drenched Toby Cavanaugh. He wasn't in his –A team get-up, which Spencer was thankful for. Raindrops suspended from his eyelashes, framing his icy blue eyes, making them more piercing than ever.

"I'm listening…" she growled.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N - Thanks so much for all the feedback! Honestly I didn't expect this story to get four reviews; let alone twelve (last time I checked)**

**I apologize for all the errors, most were the courtesy of the lovely auto-correct on my iPad. I'm sorry, please believe me when I say I'm not stupid (I know it's hard to believe)**

**The flashback at the beginning is set AFTER Spencer discovers Toby is -A, but sleeps with him anyway (There seemed to be a little confusion over that. **

**For sentimental souls who listen to music while reading I recommend Limp Bizkit's cover of behind blue eyes. I actually got introduced to this song through the lovely .Marcella's fic. Thanks for that, it's now the Toby-est song I can think of. I'll put an extract of the song below...**

* * *

_No one knows what it's like, to be the bad man._

_To be the sad man, behind blue eyes._

_No one knows what it's like, to be hated_

_To be fated, to telling only lies._

_But my dreams aren't as empty, _

_as my conscious seems to be._

* * *

_"I...I shouldn't be here..." The brunette whispered, her pale, drained skin shivering at his caress._

_He smiled, his cyan eyes falling to the floor. "Neither should I."_

_She pressed her damp lips to his, cupping his cold face. Rain drummed against the window of his apartment; creating an eerie and irregular beat. The sky outside was black and cloudless, as dark and dangerous as the man she was entangled with, beneath sweat, tear and rain drenched sheets. _

_There had been a power-cut earlier that day, and the only thing that lit the dingy room was a coal fire, the flames spitting and flickering. The orange sparks danced in Toby's eyes, making his eyes look as if they were conflicted between fire and ice. For a second she found her self lost, the rain outside hypnotising, and the blue-eyed man beside her even more so. The adrenaline rush was much to handle. She gripped his face in her hands roughly, her uncut nails digging into his cheeks. She pulled his face to her hers; allowing her ice-cold lips to brush his. He pulled away for a second, his eyes burning into hers. His mouth twitched into a smile, "you know you're playing with fire, right?"_

_She smirked back, allowing herself to be intoxicated for him one last him. She deserved, for once, to pretend everything was okay. Why not? She deserved just one night of pretending she was happy "Yes," she whisperd huskily, pulling her body onto his, "why do think I'm here?"_

_He made work of her neck, kissing every inch of it. Spencer groaned, inhaling sharply. Soon her white blouse and pants were on the floor, as well as his T-shirt, and nothing less than his infamous black hoodie. That night, was one of many nights Spencer wished had never happened._

* * *

Toby Cavanaugh stood awkwardly in the doorway of Spencer's motel room. He hadn't changed since she last saw him, cornflower eyes, dusty colored hair, the strong build. However, a thin, crimson cut shadowed his jawline; which distinctively looked as if it hasn't been an accident. Spencer noticed the slight limp in his step, as he entered the walls of the dingy hotel room.

Toby didn't quite know what his plan was, he had little idea how he was going to tell her how he knew about her morbid plans for later that evening, a fact Spencer didn't seem to have picked up on.

For a second he drunk in his surroundings, a dingy, neglected-looking hotel room scattered his various bits of unkempt blanket or cushion. The girl stood in front of him had unruly brown hair, washed out skin, as a distinct look of madness in her chocolate eyes. She seemed even more broken than she was before - if that was possible. She looked beautiful, but broken all the same.

"I'm listening," the girl growled, her eyes shining. Her voice was aggressive, yet afraid. The sort of voice of a person Toby's natural instinct would be to protect.

"May I come in?" Toby asked, desperate to fill the silence between them.

Spencer stepped back, opening the door for him, nodding slightly. Unsure of where to sit, he stood uncomfortably by the doorframe.

"So..." Toby gulped "How have you been?"

He regretted his words instantly, as Spencer's eyes narrowed, "_How have I been?_" she hissed. Weeks of trapped anger beginning to escape.

"You disappear for weeks, refusing to pick up my or Emily's calls, you tell me that you can't ever see me again, you betray my trust, you clean out your creepy little lair, you torment my friends and I, and all you can say is "_how are you?_""

"Okay, so those weren't the words you were probably looking for. But Spencer - clearly you're not okay. I've seen this before - you know I'm not knew to this. I recognise the signs of suicidal behaviour, it's comes temporarily with mental cases such as depression and anxiety. Often caused by bullying, pressure, loss and ambiguous loss. Spencer, I know you, and I know that you've suffered from at least three out of four of those causes. So, it doesn't take someone with a medical pHD to do the math and figure out at least one of those mental cases is probably in place." he told her, his voice void of emotion, as if it was something he'd already said a thousand times.

"And since when were you a mental-health expert?" she questioned, her voice slightly accusing, "Is it one of the requirements of you and Mona's creepy clique? Along with advanced computer hacking knowledge and super-stealth?"

"Actually, a mental health specialist came to my house after my mother's death," Toby said quietly, his eyes falling to the ground. "She was from a charity working with families who lost someone to suicide."

"Oh..." Spencer whispered. She felt herself going red in embarrassment, not once in the year they'd been together had he mentioned his mother's death. The tone in her voice changing. For the first time, she almost saw Toby as a human, with feelings and emotions. Not a sociopathic robot. "I - I'm sorry, I didn't know..."

"Yeah well," he said bitterly, "You learn a little about suicidal psychology when someone in a white coat is sitting you down and asking you "how you feel""

There was a beat, before Spencer began to say something.

"Toby," Spencer murmured, her voice low, "I... I have something I need to tell you. Something you need to know, there's something I need to explain-"

"No," Toby told her, "Spencer, I'm the one who needs to explain. I- I need you tell you something about -A. I promise you, I wasn't the one who locked you in the shower. Someone close to you has you completely fooled. Two weeks ago Mona and big -A made a plan, and I want you to know I'll always be here to protect you, forever. I'll never leave your side, even if you think I have. I won't give up."

"Toby, what are you saying? We're supposed to hate each other. We're enemies. You're not allowed to feel that way- and neither am I."

Toby's eyes glazed over, "Exactly. That's what I thought - until I realised that's what keep us close. Don't you see, Spencer? You have to keep your friends close, but your enemies closer."

"I don't understand," Spencer mumbled, shaking her head.

"Spencer, I'm not on Mona's side... anymore, and I came to tell you everything you think it true isn't. Red coat isn't big -A,"

Spencer furrowed her brows in confusion, "No... Emily saw the red-coated girl giving the -A team orders..."

"Well she was wrong." he said irritably.

There was a second of silence, before Spencer sighed and said, "You say you're not on Mona's side... anymore. Are you implying there was a period where you were?"

"Before I got to know you... I thought you were just trying to replace Alison, just like Jenna said. I thought you were a bossy, selfish, bitchy, rich br-"

"You're not doing yourself any favours,"

"The point is, I realised that people aren't always what they seem. I would know a little about making a bad first impression, Spencer." he told her "Somehow I realised it wasn't worth it."

"What isn't worth it?"

"Revenge. It's all just a way for sociopaths to control the lesser of two evils. They don't understand that making people hurt like they've been hurt will not benefit them in any way."

"You did," Spencer sniffed, "You chose revenge... I mean."

"Exactly. I was stupid. But I realised long ago that if I carried on like that - I was the next on the train to sociopath-ville. I wouldn't want to end up like Mona, it's too bad for her. She's too caught in Revenge's trap to ever escape."

"Toby," she sobbed, "Why didn't you tell me earlier. You could have saved me from - _this_."

"Please, Spencer." He whispered cupping her cold, wet cheek with one hand and stroking her hair with the other, "trust me on this."

"Why?" she choked, her voice full of the pain and sorrow that followed him wherever he went.

He allowed a smile to creep onto his lips, and before he knew it a cold tear was running down his cheek. His eyes loced with hers; before he murmured in her ear, "Would I lie to you?"

* * *

She was waiting for him when he returned. He was hardly surprised; she spent most of her free time sitting in this caravan that served the -A team's lair. Although, in the past few weeks he'd found that he spent the majority of his day lounging in here, scheming about what he could do to bring the -A team down from the inside or thinking about Spencer, and what she was doing or who she was with.

For someone who didn't know who they were or what they did; this room would probably look like an extremely creepy shrine. Photos of four teenage girls lined every inch of the walls; along with copies of medical records, certificate and awards. Almost like a proud parent who was border-lining on creepy.

She was flicking idly through a book, dressed in her black hoodie and gloves."You're late,"

"Yeah well, I was taking care of something at work." he said smoothly. It was near impossibly to tell when Toby was lying, which was made most people think he was so honest. He could conjure up a lie in a matter of seconds that would have a police officer fooled completely. But if there was one person who could tell when he was lying, it was Mona.

"Hmm," she mumbled, clearly not convinced.

"What are you reading?"

"Some crappy library thing." She stared up at him, her eyebrows arching in a way too make herself look innocent. "There hero couldn't get more stupid. He keeps thinking that no one is watching him, he keeps letting his guard down. Can you relate, Toby?" she whispered, her voice taking on a baby like edge.

"No," he said, smirking at her. The best idea for him was to act oblivious to her hints, "Sounds _fascinating._"

"The thing that gets me is how the protagonist is so oblivious to who he _really_ is," she continued "They often seem to call the protagonist of a book a 'hero' or 'heroine'. I disagree, I say the guy in this is the true villain of the story. He's forgetting who he really is." She pauses, glaring at Toby, all traces of her innocent baby voice gone. "He forgot his place."

She spat the last words out, and Toby knew she was on to him.

"You've got to see yourself for who you _truly_ are, Toby. You're forgetting that." she hisses, "Spencer knows too much, and it's your fault."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

She just laughed dryly, her lips not even smiling. "I think you do, and it's time to quit the double agent game."

"What are you going to do? I'm valuable to you and her, and you know it. What makes you think you can stop me from helping them?"

"Who do you think you're kidding, Toby?" she said mockingly, her eyes narrowing in something near amusement. "You go around acting like you're some sort of saint, when you know your just as bad as me. Toby we are the_ same_."

"I am _nothing_ like you," Toby growled, feeling the familiar heat of anger boil in his stomach.

"Oh, but you are! If you're the saint you claim to be - how come you're with us and not in heaven, Mr. Martyr?"

The words stung, but he knew that there was an element of truth. "I don't claim to be a saint. But I am not, and never will be, the murderous, sociopathic bitch you are, Mona Vanderwaal."

Flames of angers flickered in the girl's eyes, "You'll _pay_ for that, Cavanaugh," she snarled. "Spencer knows too much - and it's your fault. That bitch is going down, _way down_."

"What are you saying?" he said, his voice fearful for the first time since they'd talked.

"I'm saying, two can only keep a secret if one of them is dead. I think you know how this will end."

"No," he choked, "I won't let you hurt her."

"Oh sweetie, _I'm_ not the one doing the deed." She cocked her head, her smile sickeningly sweet. "You are."

He narrowed his eyes at her, the realisation of what she was asking him crushing his soul and every ounce of his being. But with that came defiance. "_Make me_," he growled.

It was the first time he'd ever said that to her, and for a moment Mona seemed shocked that he dared defy her, before her arrogant smile came back.

"Oh, but I can." she rasped, smirking at him. "I _own_ you now. I give you orders, you do them. I tell you to kill someone, you do it. I tell you to jump of a cliff, you do it. You sold your soul to the devil over a year ago. This is _your_ doing."

"That's where you're wrong," he continued, his head shaking in defiance, his voice cracking, but stronger than before "that's how it used to be, but when will you realise I'd rather die than kill the girl I love and become like you?"

She smiled, her honey eyes staring into his icy blue ones. "That can easily be arranged."

Looking down for a second, he realised she'd cornered him, and he hand was already resting on the torch placed on the desk beside them.

_Shit._

The last thing he remembered was a blindingly painful pain in his temple, and then, nothing.

* * *

**Ohhh cliffhanger! The next chapter should be up... eventually. However, the more reviews I get in the pretty box below the more motivated to write I feel :) so remember, reviews are like cookies :)**

**The next chapter we will discover Toby's fate. And don't worry; he'd not dead. ~Izzy**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello kind readers! So I've planned out this entire story, and it's planned to span over 18 chapters. **

**The last chapter kind of had a disappointing amount of feedback, which kind if made me sad, considering I put more effort into it. I REALLY appreciate reviews, even though I know I'm not an amazing writer, but I really appreciate reviews, especially ones with constructive criticism. I know there were still as many viewers, but they just didn't review. So, I know this sounds shameless; I hate to beg for reviews, but please lol**

**ANYWAYS, thanks to anyone who did review, you're all super sweet lol :3**

**The song below is Snow Patrol's 'Run' it gives me spoby feels :(**

* * *

_To think I might not see those eyes_

_Makes it so hard not to cry_

_And as we say out long goodbyes,_

_I nearly do._

_Light up, light up_

_As if you have a choice_

_Even if you cannot hear my voice_

_I'll be right beside you dear_

* * *

Toby's eyes snapped open, and by instinct he attempted to lift his head, but a blinding pain in his temple caused him to lay it back down. He came to his senses, sensing the metallic stench of blood. He raised his hand to his head, feeling something sticky and wet on his hand. Blood.

The little he could see began to turn, the shadows of various unidentifiable objects spinning around him.

He heard the click of a door, a bright shining onto his face. He squinted, the sense of fear and unfamiliarity ringing in his ears. He felt himself plunging back into darkness, the last thing he remembered being two blurry female figures, one unmistakably Mona. The other, he wasn't sure. She was pale, dark haired and slender, clad in a red coat. The red made his head hurt, the colors too bright, the sounds around him too loud, and the feeling of near death far too familiar.

"Is he still alive?"

"Just."

That was the last he heard before he felt himself plunged back into darkness.

* * *

Spencer sighed, her fingers gripping the wheel of her car a little too tightly. She checked her reflection in the mirror; it was almost as bad as when she had left, but not quite. Her skin was still bare, and her hair mimicked that of a lion who had been in a particularly bloody fight, but at least she looked less wild. She looked less... insane.

She'd decided to come home, she knew very well she couldn't stay in that dingy hotel room for the rest of her existence, but that didn't stop her from wanting too. Her parents would be furious, there was no doubt. She'd probably been grounded for eternity; Veronica and Peter Hastings were not people used to dealing with children running away. She wondered if Mr and Mrs Cavanaugh even worried or cared when Toby went missing for weeks upon end, they never seemed to ask for him or worry about where he was. The Cavanaugh's probably had more to worry about when it came it came to the whereabouts of their son than the Hasting's did about their daughter.

She pulled up towards the drive of her home. To her shock, she saw the Hastings' family car wasn't solitary; a police car was parked out front. Spencer felt almost as perplexed as she was scared, on one one hand she felt that the possibility of finding a piece of the puzzle beyond idyllic, however through her experience of the police, it normally ended with a murder or interrogation _about_ a murder.

Slamming her door as she exited the car she'd used for her 'vacation', she realised her legs were shaking a little. Lesson one was in the world of –A and Alison, when there's a cop car outside your house, it probably isn't a good sign.

The door was unlocked, typical for the Hastings' household, and Spencer could see the blurry figures of her mother and Melissa through the translucent glass.

She swung the door open, instantly feeling the eyes of every person in the room to avert to her.

"I know, I know." She started, her eyes falling quickly to the floor, already anticipating what her family were about to say. "I'm grounded forever. I get it. I'm sorry."

"Spencer…" her mother said lowly, her voice quiet and sincere,

"I'm sorry mom. I won't do it again you have every reason to be mad-" she continued, dropping her keys on the couch.

"Spencer!" a shaking voice said from the other room. For the first time Spencer looked up, the three familiar faces of Aria, Emily and Hanna staring back at her. A couple of policemen were stood there too, their faces sombre and serious. Emily's mascara was running down her face, Aria looked as if she'd just been traumatized, and Hanna's lip was trembling.

Déjà vu. She had been here before - maybe a different day, a different place, but she had been here all the same. The mournful faces, the delicate words. A death, more specifically - a murder. She felt the ground beneath her spin, she felt dizzy. She knew what was coming.

"Spencer, They found-" Melissa began, placing her hand gently on Spencer's sleeve.

"Don't." Spencer swallowed, her voice trembling like it had so many times before, "If you don't say anything, I can tell myself everything's okay…"

"I was walking in the woods last night, around nine," Aria whispered, walking slowly towards her, as if she was a china doll, capable of breaking in the slightest gust of wind. "And I saw… a body. It was-"

"No," Spencer croaked, her eyes filling with tears, "Please, don't…"

"It was Toby." Aria finished, her voice cracking, "I called the cops, but by the time the cops got there, the body – it was _gone_." Her voice lingered for a second on the word 'gone', because Toby was gone. He was dead.

* * *

_The two teenagers sat, laughing under the tree as sheets and sheets of rain fell upon them. They were both soaked to the skin; and were shivering and cold, yet neither of them cared._

_"Sorry," Toby started, grinning at the brunette beside him, whose silky hair now fell in soaking wet rats' tails. "This isn't exactly the weather for a picnic."_

_"Maybe so," Spencer answered, "but it's far too typical to have a picnic in sunshine, don't you think Mr. Cavanaugh?"_

_"What are you suggesting? We eat in this weather?"_

_"There's always the truck..." _

_Toby raised an eyebrow, __"Ah, yes. The beautiful scenery of my old pick up truck, The cassette player is particularly breathtaking."_

_Spencer nudged him, "Since when were you so against being 'typical' anyway, Miss Hastings?" he asked, turning his face towards hers._

_"Since you showed me there's more to life than being 'typical'"_

_ "You make me sound like an religious teacher who's enlightened you."_

_"You did," Spencer murmured, leaning her head against his shoulder, "You're different."_

_"So are you," Toby answered__, "The only decent people in this town are different, and sadly that's an insignificant minority."_

_"You make it sound as if it's a town filled with the devil's spawn."_

_Toby shrugged, "To an extent, there are people in this town that make you just want to… disappear."_

_Suddenly Toby felt Spencer pull his face towards hers, anchoring them together, her hand cupping his face. They pulled apart eventually, and she gazed into his eyes,_

_"Please don't ever disappear." Spencer whispered, "I don't know what I'd do without you."_

_Toby smiled "I don't know what I'd do without you either."_

_Toby grinned at her, his face now soaking, covered in rain. He looked back at the girl sat beside him. Raindrops were suspended from her eyelashes like diamonds, and even with soaking hair, she looked unbelievably stunning._

_He squeezed her hand, "You and me, lets fly away"_

_Spencer snorted, "Yeah, maybe someday." she turned back to him, a trace of remorse in her eyes, "You'll always be here right?"_

_"I promise. I'll always be here for you, Spencer Hastings." He told her, his voice steady, even though deep within him he knew that was a promise that had to be broken, if it was ever even whole._

_"Do you swear?"_

_"Cross my heart and hope to die."_

_"Always?"_

_"Always."_

* * *

"No, no that's not possible…" Spencer murmured, feeling as if the walls of the house were crashing uncontrollably onto her, crushing her, taking every breath from her lungs. "I saw Toby la-last night, by that timing I would have seen him gh-ghost!"

Aria shook her head, tears appearing in her huge eyes, "It was him, Spence."

Spencer shook her head faster, hoping the more she denied it, the truth would go away and stop being true. "Did you see the face?"

Aria nodded, reaching for her friend's hand.

Spencer pulled her hand away, "Then you're _wrong_. I _saw_ him last night, I _talked_ to him."

Aria stared despairingly into the brunette's eyes, her voice cracking and pained, "It was _him_, Spence."

"Then what am I, crazy?" Spencer yelled, stepping away from the group of people assembled in her kitchen. A joyless smile dancing across her lips, "because I saw him, and he was alive." Her voice was ragged, torn and cracking. The voice of someone who was clinging on to the tiniest ounce of hope she had left.

Emily took a step towards her, taking her the broken girl that stood before her's hand.

"He's gone."

"No," Spencer insisted, her voice animal and insane "No, no he's not."

She ripped her hand from Emily's, slamming open the door of her home as she ran out. She couldn't stay there, they wouldn't believe her. She may be crazy, but she was sure she saw Toby last night, the words he spoke, they were too real.

"Spencer!" her mother shouted after her, but she ignored it. The others called for her too; but she ignored them too. To her now, it was all just noise. The same meaningless monotone. They ran after her at first, but soon they gave up. It was no use. Everyone gave up eventually, like they always would.

Finally she slammed into a tree, she hadn't been focusing on the path ahead of her. Looking around her, she found herself deep in the heart of the woods, shivering, cold and broken. She didn't even recall coming into the woods, it was if her subconscious had programmed an automatic path for her to follow.

Her eyes strung, her ears were ringing, and she found herself struggling to breath, like she was breathing through a straw.

She fell to the floor, feeling the cold ground beneath her knees. She sobbed, allowing herself to cry herself out. Except the tears kept coming, they just wouldn't stop. They wouldn't stop, but oh how she longed they would. She longed for the numbness. She longed for Mona's sociopathic nature, it may have made her crazy, she would never laugh or love, but at least she wouldn't hurt.

Eventually she stared longingly at the grey sky above her, Aria's words repeating in her brain over and over, driving her insane.

_"He's gone."_

"Toby?" she whispered, finding herself waiting, praying for an answer. "Toby!?" she called, longer, more animal and tragic than before. "Toby where _are_ you?"

"TOBY!" she yelled, her voice echoing throughout the woods, her own scarred, choking rasp repeatedly, calling the same name over and over, waiting for an answer that would never come.

"You promised you'd be here!" she called upwards, her head tilting up to the heavens, "You promised!You said you'd _always_ be here. You said _always_."

There was no answer. She was calling for a boy who would never hear her. The thought ate her from the inside, the thought of his cyan blue eyes staring without seeing, the thought of his lips cold and lifeless, the thought that he'd never be able to take her to Paris like he promised, the thought that he'd never be able to make up things with his father like he said he would. The thought that she'd never hear him call her name again, the thought that he'd never say he loved her again, and the thought he'd never ever know he was going to be a father. He would never ever know.

"But you _lied_." She choked, "like you always did."

She doubled over, her sobs and cries echoing through the trees. It was if her soul was being ripped out, and silently she vowed she'd make Mona, or whoever killed Toby pay, even if it was the last thing she ever did.

She felt the first raindrop land on the back of her head, cold and wet. More fell, but she didn't mind. The best thing about rain is that nobody can tell you've been crying. The grey heavens opened, falling on the girl who had lost all hope.

If she was to die out here, then so be it.

* * *

"We found her wondering the woods on her own. She's soaking wet, she looks like she's been here all night. What should we do with her?" the park ranger said into her radio. She looked back at the girl sat in the front seat of her truck, who looked nothing short of mad.

"Take her for a psych test," the man on the other side of the line said, his voice decisive. "Maybe amnesia?"

"Maybe," the woman agreed uncertainly. "I've never seen her before. She's not talking either, so I have really no clue. I'll take her in."

Spencer sat slumped in the back seat of the park rangers' truck. Her head was tilted up towards the sky, her mouth slightly open. Had she not blinked, a passer by might have thought she was dead. She certainly felt like it.

"Toby… Toby I love you…" she mouthed, her voice box now incapable of speech after hours of screaming, sobbing and crying, now sore and raw. "Toby…. please."

* * *

**So that's that. We'll see Spencer in Radley next week, as well as two familiar faces we're not so fond of, a murder, and a very depressed Spencer. That should be up by the end of the week, so yeahh… ~Izzy**


	4. Chapter 4

_Oh! What a tangled web we weave,_

_when we first practice to deceive!_

_Take note, you innocent, __you naïve_

_The price that freedom will aggrieve_

* * *

**A/N - The quote above isn't a song lyric - but just a quote. I just thought it was suitable. Thank you guys soooo much for every single one of you reviews - it means so much to see people appreciating the story, and I'm so glad you actually like it lol :3**

**If you don't know who Bree/MamaSpobette/Nooneinthebackcanhearyou is, and you enjoy spoby fanfiction, you're missing out. She's probably the best writer on here, or damn well near it. She's amazing - and whoever are stealing her stories don't deserve reviews, try and AVOID reading stolen stories as much as possible, it only encourages them.**

**I'd also like to put a disclaimer on this chapter - in no way am I trying to mimic _From Venom to Vindiction_, this Spencer in Radley phase was always part of the plot - but this story will play out differently from Bree's, and I don't want anyone to think I'm copying her. She's so talented. **

**As well as the regular disclaimer - I don't own PLL, Toby, Mona, Spencer or anyone else for that matter. Or Evanescence (The song quote below is from _Going Under_) although sometimes I wish I owned Toby... (Sorry for the long A/N)**

* * *

_Now I will Tell you, what I've done for you_

_Fifty thousand tears I've cried_

_Screaming, deceiving and bleeding for you_

_and you, still won't hear me_

_going under_

_Don't want your hand, this time I'll save myself_

_Maybe I'll wake up for once_

* * *

_The little girl was standing – her dusty, wispy brown hair flowing freely in the light breeze. Spencer looked around – she was surrounded by paradisiacal trees and shrubbery, the atmosphere a little too idyllic and perfect for Spencer's liking. It was too angelic and fairy-tale, and in Spencer's experience this ultimately meant a danger, toil on snare had already carefully been laid for her. _

_She turned back to the child standing a few metres away from her. The child laughed, wobbling on her chubby toddler legs. Her skin was translucent, her lips pink and plump. She looked too commercial for reality – her smile too wide and cheeks too pink. _

_A chill ran down Spencer's spine, and she suddenly sensed who the child was. She was the unborn fetus inside of her - the baby that shouldn't be. Her legs barely held her up as she trotted towards Spencer, her white arms outstretched. Before she knew Spencer had her arms too outstretched, crouching on the ground, unsurely anticipating embracing this child she was so sure was her own. The brunette squeezed her eyes shut, unsure of how she felt. Fear engulfed her; but something else too, something warm, welcoming and curious. H__er child._

_Several seconds passed, before Spencer opened her eyes to see the child wasn't entangled in her arms, but wobbling past her into the arms of another._

_Spinning around, an icy chill travelled down her spine. She wasn't alone. A girl, around 17, stood behind her. She was small, with a caramel complexion, silky raven hair, and revenge filled eyes, the practically bubbled with fury and hatred. The baby wobbled into Mona Vanderwaal's spidery arms, laughing, oblivious to the fact she lay in the arms of the devil herself. The child was like an unsuspecting insect caught in the web of a spider, confused, trapped and ignorant to its oncoming peril. Mona looked down at the baby girl, her eyes filled with greed. She caught the little girl's chubby wrist, trapping her, her manicured nails digging into her soft, white flesh. The child's smile froze, her Columbian blue eyes swimming with tears, realising the woman hovering above her was not a friend – but a foe. She struggled, but she remained caught in Mona's iron grip. She cried out, her face reddening. _

_Spencer tried to scream – but no sound escaped. She was muted. She tried to run, protect the girl, but her feet were gridlocked to the floor. The once heavenly woods know seemed sinister, the looming trees now gnarled – grotesque faces forming, grimacing down at her. The skies conflicted between various shades of grey, and the once minty colored grass grew up to Spencer's knees, thick and troublesome, not dissimilar to the ropes and strings of a trap. They seemed to grab onto her legs - pulling her backward, as she watched her own daughter fall into a black widow's trap, unable to even make a sound. _

_The little girl cried out – as Mona brought her hand teasingly across her red, tear stained cheek. She lifted her up slowly by the arm – laughing, the sound sharp, sinister, cruel and unforgiving. She rose her other arm behind her, then bringing the fist crashing towards the insect she had so effortlessly trapped, preparing for the death blow –_

* * *

Spencer Hastings sat up quickly, seeing not the nightmarish woods before her but a grey, blank wall. Looking around urgently, she realised she was in fact lying in sweat drenched sheets, entangled and messy around her, her clammy fingers raking through her hair. Just another nightmare.

She slumped back into the stiff pillows, doing her best to get herself to sleep. Through the past few days a pleasant nights sleep was but a thing of the past – but Spencer prayed tonight would be the night that changed. Night after night Spencer tossed and turned in her cot, replaying every heart-wrenching moment she could bear to think of. The night they found Ali's body, the night she discovered the truth about the boy he loved more than anything, and the night a few days later when she found his corpse in the woods. Aria's words would chase her out of sanity, and propel her into the world of total oblivion. When she could sleep - endless, repetitive nightmares plagued her, the same scenes repeating endlessly over and over, yet never failing to chill her to the bone. Sometimes she saw her baby - other times she saw Toby being killed over and over, sometimes she'd dream of other things too blood-curdling and disturbing to be articulated.

It seemed a person's internal clock never ticked at the pace they desired, whirring round at impossible speeds when we wish for nothing more than for time to freeze, and ticking at a tedious, endless pace when all we know is boredom. For Spencer – now it seemed time didn't even tick, Spencer would watch the world whir by, buzzing, moving, while Spencer lay there, frozen in time. Dead but breathing. She was a shadow - a mere echo of the girl she had once been. There she would sit - watching the world move on and let go, their minds devoid of her pain and suffering, they weren't even aware anything was wrong.

_How could they walk, speak and act like nothing was wrong? How could they work, learn to carry on when the world came crashing and falling down on her, and her alone? Did no one care he was gone but her?_

The words would echo back and forth in her head, along with thoughts like knives, reminding her she was the reason he was six feet under.

It had been five days since the body of Toby Cavanaugh had been discovered by Aria Montgomery. Spencer hadn't seen them since, she'd been checked into Radley after two park rangers discovered her wondering the woods. They'd taken in her in for a psychological evaluation, and she'd been diagnosed with severe depression and amnesia. For all they knew she was Jane Doe – and to be perfectly honest Spencer would rather be Jane Doe than Spencer Hastings. Occasionally she would be pelted with guilt by the fact her family and friends had literally no clue about her whereabouts, but then she'd hastily remind herself they would try and take her home, thinking it was best for her. They wouldn't understand that it wasn't that Spencer didn't want to be her former self, as that was all she desired, but that it was physically impossible.

Spencer drifted back to something near sleep, slowly rising and falling from dream and reality, unsure of which was which. Oblivious was she to the girl identical to the antagonist of her nightmares, who stood staring down at her, her full lips twisting into a cunning smirk.

Spencer may have ended the nightmare in the twisted, sinister forest , but her nightmare was only just beginning.

* * *

"Wake up sleeping beauty." A female voiced drawled, her voice teasing, but void of affection or sympathy. Spencer squinted, making about a girl dressed in head to toe black. The blurry figure sharpened, and Spencer instantly recognised the notorious figure of Mona Vanderwaal, a snarky, uncaring expression across her face.

Spencer flinched back, shocked to see her deadly enemy leaning over her.

"I wouldn't struggle if I were you." Mona simpered, "You're mine now, and I say you stay still."

Spencer grimaced up at Mona, "Why would I do that, Mona? There's a whole hospital out there…"

"Oh Spence, you don't honestly think I'd miss that, do you? My connections got you into your very own private room, how nice! It's for the dangerously insane, and the best part is, there are 18-inch padded walls. Not a sound escapes – and neither do you, in case you're wondering."

Spencer looked around her, her head jerking back and forth. She wasn't in the room she had fallen asleep in earlier that night - but a minimalistic room, with no windows, just a thick, steel door. She recognised it - it was a gridlock mental room, reserved for the criminally insane. Spencer wasmn't exactly a vision of sanity - but she wasn't criminally insane either. Mona must have some how bended the rules to get her in here - evidently so she could decide the brunette's ultimate fate. Somehow, Mona Vanderwaal had taken her prisoner.

"These rooms are reserved for borderline murderers…"

"That's what my personal physician said, by he reckons you qualify. I love having a doctor work with me – you'd be terrified by the amount of power they hold beneath their white coats and surgeon's masks."

"So what are you going to do? Keep me here to what avail? What is this going to do for you?"

Mona straightened, strolling over to the wooden desk stood by Spencer's cot. "You should be relieved, had big -A had the choice, she'd have shot you in the head, but not me. You should be _honoured,_ Spencer."

"What are you talking about?" she sobbed, a pounding headache making tears stream down her cheek. The pain was unbearable – and damn too unbearable to be natural. The symptom seemed familiar, once when Alison, Emily, Hanna, Aria and Spencer had attended one of Ali's 18+ parties, (thanks to Alison's fake IDs) and someone had spiked Spencer's drink. She recalled the pounding pain in her head, the amplified, fast beating of her heart, the stumbling, the disability to form proper sentences, she could barely even move.

"I'm giving you a choice, Spencer. You have four days. In those four days I'm allowing you to think this over."

"How?" Spencer choked, "by drugging me, and locking me in a room where nobody can hear me scream?"

"By the end of these four days," Mona continued, ignoring Spencer's comment, "You will choose one of the following. First option – you can join the –A team. You can help the others and me, you will be released from Radley, and you will take orders from Big –A and Big –A alone."

"And if I refuse?"

Mona smiled back at her, "Do you really need to ask that?"

Spencer allowed the words to sink in. She had to join the -A team, or die. It was pretty obvious.

"That's not really much of a choice, is it?" She spat, feeling her head pound more, and Mona slip in and out of focus.

"Four days," Mona simpered again, holding four fingers up, and heading towards the bolted door, taking out a key and slipping it into the lock. Spencer jerked, but felt restraints on her wrists and ankles hold her down.

Mona opened the door, about to leave, before she span around to face Spencer once again.

"So sorry about Toby, sweetie." She purred, her honey brown eyes narrowing, "he knew too much…"

"I'll make you _pay_ Mona." Spencer told her through clenched teeth.

"Oh you should have heard him _scream_." Mona hissed back, clearly relishing Spencer's anger. "Took a few bullets, the gunman didn't have the best aim. By the time your sidekick Aria got there he'd bled to death."

"Who killed Toby?" Spencer growled, Mona didn't reply. "Tell me who killed Toby or I swear I rip your head off your shoulders!" she shrieked, the words becoming increasingly difficult to form.

Mona raised a single fingers to her lips. "Oh, I would tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."

"I will _never_ join your sick little club..." Spencer slurred.

"Oh, I wouldn't count on that. I know you better than you know yourself."

"Over…. my dead… body."

"That can easily be arranged."

"Then…. k-kill me. I'd rather…. d-die."

"Boo, you're no fun sometimes Spence." Mona pouted, "but you'll come around."

She turned on her heels, about to leave before adding "Having trouble speaking, honey? That was never a problem before…"

Mona Vanderwaal turned back one more time back to Spencer, "four days," she giggled "tick-tock."

Mona slammed the door shut, and Spencer let out a deafening scream, and had anyone been able to hear it, their blood would have curdled.

Mona's words echoed back and forth in her mind.

_Tick-Tock._

* * *

Spencer awoke once again, her head throbbing. The room around her came in and out of focus, and she took a little time to drink her surroundings in. Plaster walls, black and empty, and door, locked. No windows, just a flickering, naked light bulb above her head. To Spencer the size was undisguisable, it seemed the walls came closing in, and then flared back out. Side affect of the drugs, she suspected. She had a biting feeling they weren't prescription, too.

She thought she saw nothing but grey, until something from the shadow's umbra jerked, giving away it's vital position. She wasn't alone. The ambiguous creature revealed itself; clad from head to toe in nothing but black. They were tall - at least six feet. He had translucent-pale skin; and their dark hood cast sinister shadows across their face. His azure eyes almost seemed to glow, an uncountable number of colors within them, giving the affect of shattered glass. They seemed to reflect the light a little - catlike and eerie.

"Toby." she breathed, turning away her head, diving into a lucid state, "I'm dreaming. You're dead."

He snorted, stepping from the shadows, "you're telling _me_ that."

She shook her head vigorously; attempting to drift back into consciousness. "Aria saw your body."

He chuckled darkly, "What makes you believe that you can trust her?"

"She's my best friend..."

"You think that would change anything? I was your boyfriend, that didn't prevent my prevarication."

Spencer gulped, feeling the dauntingly familiar stinging sensation in her eyes. "Why are you doing this?"

"Why am _I_ doing this? Spencer, you're smart. I'm not real - remember? I thought you were smart?"

"I don't understand."

"Dreams are not miscellaneous pieces of another's mind. Dreams are gatherings of subconscious thoughts and revelations, echoes of truth, belief and suspicions. I'm not accusing dear, sweet, innocent Aria of anything at all, you are. I think the true questions here is, why are _you_ doing his?"He snapped, his words disdainful, and a touch condescending.

"I'd trust Aria with my life." Spencer spat, the words sounding almost certain. However, behind the words, she felt herself questioning them.

Toby rolled his eyes, "What is she?_ Your safe place to land_?"

"You can leave now."

"Oh Spence. I'm not a person, you can't just order me to leave. I decide when I leave and for now, I think I'd rather stay. A subconscious thought doesn't leave when ordered - nor does any thought for that matter. "

"Stop telling me how to live my life, Toby."

"I can tell you how to live your life all I want - I'm six feet under, remember. Well, I would be if I was actually buried. For now - I'm your subconscious taking the form of the one your fear the most."

Spencer stared at him blankly, "_Fear you_?"she whispered, almost laughing.

"Maybe those weren't the right words. Fear loosing me, perhaps?"

Spencer's near smile quickly turned into a frown, "that's ridiculous."

Toby shook his head, smirking a little. "I'm you thoughts, Spence. I wouldn't tell me what's ridiculous and what's not."

"Well, if you're so sure you could live my life one thousand times better," she hissed, her eyes narrowing, "how come I'm the one who's still breathing?"

Toby's smile froze, and his jaw clenched.

"You're _dead_, Toby. You're gone. It's about time you truly died too, because I am _so_ over missing you." she continued, her voice accusing, sinister. Such convincing lives.

Toby stepped back, stretching his neck, and took down his notorious black hood - the pale, ghostly light of the naked bulb hitting his face for the first time. To Spencer's horror - a bloody hole was engraved on his temple, gory, and clearly way beyond repair. A bullet hole, right through the. Toby stepped back, his hand raising to his lips, a small smile escaping his lips, even when his icy, cold eyes remained uncaring and hard.

"Tick-Tock." he whispered, stepping back into the pitch black shadows that engulfed him before he disappeared completely.

Spencer laid her head back on the stiff cushion that barely comforted her pounding head - doing her best to remain in the light, but once again, darkness dragged her under.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! The Toby/Spencer scene in this may have been unclear, but the idea was Spencer wasn't arguing with Toby - but her subconscious taking the form of Toby. Sorry if that was unclear. I'd appreciate if you review, the quicker I update. I try and start writing my stories on Thursday, finish them on Friday, and add the author's note and double check the whole thing by Saturday. So, HOPEFULLY the next chapter will be up by next week. It's scary to think by that time we'll know who Red Coat and Ali's killer are - I'm so nervous for Spoby, anyone else? I've been told it's crazy shocking, and LOADS will be revealed, and even more in the season 4 premiere! I'm terrified, and if Toby is dead I will kill a bitch. ~Izzy**

**P.S - Did you notice the parallel in this chapter to a Hanna/Ali scene in season 2. Kudos to anyone who can guess it.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N - Hey children. So how amazing was the finale. SO. MUCH. SPOBY. I wasn't expecting a sex scene, and I wasn't expecting him to be a double agent either. Nor was I expecting them to get back together. BUT IT ALL HAPPENED. I can't wait for the next season, I think I'll just hibernate until it comes. Thanks for all your reviews, as always, they are appreciated. I plan to have this story done at the earliest June, and at the latest August. More realistically August. The song below is Red's "Let it Burn". It's an amazing song, go check it out :D**

**This story is told in a series of short parts, hence why it's pretty long. Enjoy! ;)**

* * *

_"Life is a game, boy. Life is a game that one plays according to the rules"_

-J.D Salinger, Catcher in the Rye

* * *

_You can't stand the pain_

_How long will you hide your face?_

_How long will be afraid? _

_Are you afraid?_

_Will you play this game?_

_Will you fight or will you walk away?_

_How long will you let it burn_

_Let it Burn_

* * *

Toby always thought humanity's greatest flaw was their indifference to detail, or in some cases, to see nothing but detail. Some people only see what they are shown, and fail to look beneath it, to look for inconsistencies and irregular aspects, and only see the obvious. Others only see the little things as thousands of unrelated details, and despite seeing what is near unnoticeable; fail to see the bigger picture. Sometimes, if you look at things again, you see things; small inconstancies and they don't make sense, but if you put them into the bigger picture, you'll discover that the tiniest detail you saw from the corner of your eye was the biggest game-changer of all. You'll see that the thing you deemed unworthy of attention; changed everything, maybe saved or lost lives. If you registered it at the time, everything would be different.

Maybe if the guard at Radley sanatorium had looked twice when he was watching the security cameras overlooking the hallways; he would have noticed the tall, muscular figure slip in and out of the shadows, not making the slightest sound. Maybe if he looked even closer, he would have seen the shadow gently pour an unidentified liquid onto the floor, which he would soon later learn was gasoline. If that guard had bothered to register this detail, perhaps Radley Sanatorium wouldn't be have burned to the ground, near killing over one hundred patients.

But I'm not here to tell the story of the guard who didn't bother to look twice – I'm here to tell the story of the committer of arson himself, no other than the nineteen year old Toby Cavanaugh.

* * *

**9:00pm**

"It's done." Mona Vanderwaal smiled, showing a glimpse of perfectly white, straight teeth. She spoke into a small mobile device, her mouth pressed to the speaker. "He actually did it. I had my doubts - he was starting to show signs of weakness. He is an excellent actor, no one can deny that. He almost had me fooled."

"He may be that," said the voice on the receiving end of the line, "but it takes an actor to know an actor. And surely, if anything, we are actors?"

"You can say that again," the bite-sized brunette grumbled into the cell phone, "sometimes it was really hard pretending to like Hastings' bitch"

"Don't get too impudent, Mona." the voice warned, "if we want to recruit Spencer, we don't to call her a bitch every few seconds."

Mona mumbled a vague apology, her immaculately stencilled brows shooting up. "I don't get why this is so late, what's the point in hurting her first if we could do this sooner?"

Mona heard the girl sigh heavily, and got the feeling that if this conversation was in person she would have rolled her eyes.

"There are two ways to break bones, Mona." she huffed, "If you're lucky it's a clean break - the bone snaps clean, and there is little or no impact to the rest of your body or skin. They heal easily, and are significantly less painful.

A comminuted fracture is when the bone is broken into several pieces, there can be three breaks, or even more. They're challenging to treat due to the complexity, and is further complicated if the bone is open and protruding outside the overlying skin - the result being agonizing. The bone can splinter, further complicating things. Clean breaks are easy to treat, it's like piecing together two halves of a broken mirror. But Mona - have you ever tried piecing together a mirror shattered into thousands of pieces? It's impossible. But keep someone broken, and they can't piece themselves together and uprise. If someone is shattered, you'll never have to worry about trouble from them ever again."

"Your point?"

"We've broken Spencer, but love is a two player game. If we're going to keep him at our -_ my_ will, we'll break him. We're half way there."

"We got him to set the place on fire, now all we need to shatter him is guilt. We shattered Spencer with betrayal, but guilt is a sharper knife."

"So...?" Mona asked, struggling to keep up with the complexity of Big -A's analogy."

"I'll tell you tomorrow. But remember this - it takes a sociopath to not feel remorse - and we all know Toby's no sociopath."

She hung up, leaving a bemused Mona Vanderwaal on the other end. Mona sighed, snapping the cell shut. She stared up to the great orange orb a few metres away, a wicked smile crossing her red lips.

Smoke oozed from every crack and groove, glowing orange sparks licking and snapping at the cold winter's air. The sky around the building grew increasingly dark - and soon the air surrounding the place grew near opaque. There were blood curdling screams from petrified patients as the fire spread around the grey, stone walls of Radley Sanatorium.

* * *

She was here again. Trapped in the lonely brink of dream and reality; not held by the relief of reality's certainess, nor by the comfort that whatever happened in her dreams were mere delusions. Where she was right now - she had no idea whether or not what saw was a figment of her imagination or cold, hard reality.

She rolled her eyes towards the back of head, the lonely, rosewood chair stood in the corner split into two blurry images and back again. God, all she wanted was a good dreamless sleep for twelve hours. Or twelve years.

She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the caress of non-existent smoke tickle her nose. She opened an eye; seeing the air around her turn grey and opaque. She even coughed. Her hallucinations were getting more realistic. That was something. The realness of the hallucination scared her, and she prayed it _was_ a hallucination. It had to be.

She got up from the bed, lifting the scratchy sheets from her worn body, unstable on her feet. She wobbled, it felt like she was an elephant carried by cocktail sticks. She walked - or more_ shook_ - towards the cream painted door, in which false smoke poured. At least - she _hoped_ it was false. Trembling, she laid the back of her ghostly pale hand on the brass doorknob. If it was cold - this was just a dream. If it wasn't, she was stuck in the midst of an extremely real fire.

_Please be a dream. Please be a dream._

She snapped her hand back towards her chest; the doorknob was burning hot and had already scolded her hand. _Shit_.

This was no consequence of an overdose of prescription drugs. The smoke that leeched through the cracks of the door was very real. Unless Spencer was mistaken, which she very rarely was, there was an extremely real fire on the other side of that door. The place was burning up.

Spencer looked around the room urgently, searching for means of escape other than the door. There were no windows in the room, Mona had made sure of that. She couldn't open the door even if it wasn't burning hot - Mona locked that door with exquisite care every night since she had taken her. Her eyes shot to the incased poster on the back of the door, entitled '_In Case of Fire Emergency'_ she scanned it, taking in the instructions, praying that they could help her.

_1. Feel the door handle with the back of your hand. If it is cold the fire source is elsewhere, if it's hot it's behind the door._

She'd done that.

_2. Block the bottom of the door with anything possible. _

Spencer hobbled over to the bed, picking up the limp, thin, flimsy thing passed of as a duvet, and chucked it towards the small gap between the door and the bottom of the doorframe, preventing further smoke from getting inside.

_3. Wait for the fire alarm to ring, and wait for guidance out of the hospital. _

There were no alarms. Spencer hit the thing with her hand, leaving a bruise on her palm. She didn't care - she simply wailed in frustration. "But the alarm's not going off!" she screamed, running her fingers through her tangled hair. "What do I do _then_?"

Spencer wailed, already feel the unnatural rise in temperature, as well as perspiration of her skin. She was going to die. She was going to burn. She was going to burn in a pile of stones and rock claiming to be a mental establishment, with no one here. Unless she could break down this door, there was no way she was going to get out.

She couldn't just sit here to waste away, so Spencer Hastings got up, taking a few shaking steps backwards, until she was about three metres away from the door. She turned to the side slightly, and closing her eyes charged towards the door at full force. There was no way she would be defeated by a measly fire, that wasn't her style.

The door was unbelievably hot, and her arm burned with blinding pain. She felt the pain of the impact run down her spine, a few tears falling down her face. It hurt like hell, but she had to carry on. She grimaced, attempting to subdue the pain in her forearm to look up at her handiwork of the door. A couple of the hinges had fallen off on her impact, leaving it at an obscure angle. '_One'_ she whispered to herself.

She stepped back once again, ignoring the pain, and charged towards the door again. The door made a large 'crack', and was left nearly on it's side. A couple of splinters pierced her arm, adding to the already unsubsiding pain. '_two_' she whispered, her sobs now more frantic. If she didn't get this door down, she would die.

'_Three'_ she told herself finally, charging at the door with great force. It creaked for a second, and then fell to the floor. She surveyed the halls outside, not allowing time to be pleased with herself for knocking the door down. There were identical screams as the fire spread throughout Radley, without warning or mercy. The wall opposite stood scorched, and her view was obscured by a great wall of fire. The thick, opaque smoke hung, like one massive curtain. She ducked beneath it, recalling that carbon dioxide was lighter than oxygen, so hung higher, and therefore to prevent choking to death you should duck beneath smoke.

Her lungs felt as if they were about to collapse, and Spencer coughed heavily, tears forming in her eyes. She couldn't see a way out the halls. She kind of presumed after she got the door down a path of escape would become clear, but currently there wasn't a sign of such a path.

"Help!" she screamed. No answer. Could nobody help? Was the hospital in complete chaos? Did _nobody_ have a plan? Why didn't the fire alarm go off? Unfortunately these questions didn't have time to be answered in the current state of affairs, as Radley was currently in the process of burning to the ground.

She crawled under the smoke, attempting to find someway out of the fire and rubble. She scooted to the left narrowly missing being hit by a falling piece of burning wood. It would have killed her in an instant.

"Where is everyone?" she sobbed into her sleeve, her vision blurring, retracting and going fuzzy. The smoke made her head waver, and she swayed as she crawled, unable to see straight. She saw no one around her, just a few screams of madness or fear, or more often than not, considering she was in a mental hospital, both. She hated seeing herself so pathetic and begging, yet it was what she had been reduced to.

Suddenly there was an orange flash, and her leg felt as if it was on fire. She turned to look at it, a piece of hot wood had landed on it during her brief break. She panted, crying out in pain. The combination of the unbearable pain in her forearm and the numbingly torturous pain in her arm made her scream, falling to the floor in agony. She was going to die. She was going to burn. She would never see her family. She'd never even find out what happened to Alison, Ian, Garett or Toby. She'd never even graduate.

She'd accepted her fate. She started to black out, tired, agonised, seeing nothing but an orange blur when she could actually see at all. There was nobody to help her. She would lie here scorched, in the ashes of a mental hospital. She could picture Mona's face, at last content. She didn't actually believe Mona would carry out her punishment if Spencer didn't join her club, she presumed she had been bluffing. Mona was clearly capable of more than one would guess.

She guessed today was the deadline she'd failed to oblige. And her punishment? Burning in a fire with hundreds of others, her throat too scolded to scream, her legs in too much agony to move, her eyes too smoke-clogged to even see more than a hazy orange blur.

She stared ahead, waiting for oblivion. But then it came. The blurry creature clad in black, walking towards her, at a surprisingly slow pace. They were tall, she noted. For a second she thought she saw the face. 'Impossible..." she murmured, on what she believed to be her dying breath. It couldn't be real. It had to a hallucination. It _had_ to be.

Then there was another orange flash.

And then nothing.

* * *

There was a regular, paced, mechanical beep. Spencer's eyes snapped open, shocked to see a pasty, blue wall ahead of her instead on of fire. Spencer sat up instinctively, but steadily slumped back down, feeling wires on her hands and nose. She lifted her arm, observing it was wrapped in bandages. Her leg was suspended, encased by a cast.

She turned to her side, to see a concerned looking Veronica Hastings at her side. "Sweetie?" she asked, "how are you feeling?"

"Unsure..." Spencer rasped, "hospital?"

"You're here after the fire. Radley was alight-"

"I know." Spencer filled in, her memory was already too clear of last night. If it was last night, she had no idea how long she'd been sitting in this hospital bed. "How long have I been here?"

"A couple days." Veronica answered, crossing towards the pile or cards and flowers and Spencer's side; picking one up. "Spencer, honey." she whispered. "You were in Radley all this time?"

Spencer nodded, her eyes darting to the floor, too ashamed to meet her mother's eyes.

"Why didn't you tell us?"

Spencer shrugged. She knew it was a pathetic gesture, but it was all she could handle.

"Spencer, we know you're upset about Toby, but you could have at least called..."

Toby. The name stabbed her like a knife, twisting repeatedly in her heart.

"We thought you were dead." Spencer's mother whispered, "we thought you might have-" Veronica cut the sentence short, but Spencer could already imagine how her mother was thinking of ending it. The depressing thing was that same thought had too crossed her mind. On multiple occasions.

"I'm sorry," she trembled, her eyes filling with tears. "I'm sorry, mommy."

Veronica embraced her, holding her and stroking her hair, not caring that Spencer's tears were getting the shoulder of her incredibly expensive Prada jacket wet.

They pulled apart, and Veronica added hastily "You're forearm and leg have received third degree burns, so will be in bandages for a few weeks."

Spencer nodded. It could be worse - instead of bandages she could be in a coffin. The thought dragged her back to that night, recalling the shady, hazy figure she last saw. She thought she saw the face, but it couldn't have been who she thought. It was impossible.

"Mom, how did I get out of Radley." she questioned.

Her mother's gentle smile froze, quickly replaced by a look of uncertainty. "They don't know." she murmured, averting her gaze.

"What do you mean?"

"When the fire engines came, you were just outside. They took you to hospital immediately. They just presumed somehow you'd got yourself out."

"But I didn't..."Spencer told her, shaking her head. "Someone dragged me out. I fainted while I was in the halls of Radley."

"Well it's a good thing they did," Veronica said smiling. The smile seemed somehow fake to Spencer, as if her mother was trying to oppress her daughter's mind wondering and thinking of the impossible.

"But I thought it was..." Spencer said, her sentence going adrift.

"Who, honey?"

Spencer's eyes fell. "Never mind. It's not possible."

There was a pause, before Spencer added: "When can I see Aria, Hanna and Emily?"

* * *

"Spencer!" the blonde squealed, wrapping her arms around the brunette's neck.

"Ow, Hanna." Spencer said, "third degree burns, remember?"

Hanna let go quickly, grinning at her friend, showing off her pearly, white teeth.

"We'd thought we'd lost you!" Aria sighed, also embracing her friend, but more gently. Emily too hugged her, giving her a reassuring smile.

"Yeah well, I guess I got lucky." Spencer sighed, giving them a small smile. She had got lucky, there was no doubt about it. Someone had saved her from that fire, unless Spencer was very much under the influence of drugs at the time.

There was silence for a second, the girls knew Radley and Toby were a sensitive subject. There hadn't been much from -A, so frankly they had little to say. It was surprisingly hard to discuss other things, as mostly that was what they found themselves talking about.

"I need to tell you guys something..." Spencer gulped, "it's about Toby."

The girls flinched at the mention of his name. Veronica had told them Toby was a no-go subject, as the body still hadn't been found. It wasn't exactly Emily's favourite subject either; Jenna yelling at the girls that they were the reason Toby was dead wasn't exactly the highlight of her week. It had been hard enough learning he was -A, and now learning he was dead, the thought of him was unbearable and ultimately resulted in a surge of guilt, anger, sadness, or all of the above.

"I think there may be a possibility that he's..." Spencer wavered, her voice cracking. "That's he's..."

The words hurt.

"What?" Emily asked, her dark eyes filled with concern for her friend.

Spencer couldn't finish her sentence. Of course he was dead. Aria saw him in the forest. He was dead, _he wasn't breathing__._

She couldn't stand the prospect of hope that was likely to later get crushed. Spencer general conclusion for life was "hope breeds eternal misery." Hope is just another tool used by the media, the government and others to get people happier. What was the point in implying he might be alive? Emily might believe it, and she couldn't stand to see her friend believe what was inevitably not true.

Suddenly Spencer's eyes caught something on one of the cards beside her, curious to see what it was, she picked it up. On it, written in red ink, was a message written in all-caps.

_"Break the news to the girls, and I'll break them. Play my way bitch, and nobody gets hurt."_

There was no name. Just the one initial that Spencer had come to know too well.

She looked up to see the girls staring expectantly back at her, waiting for her to finish her sentence.

"What, Spence?" Hanna asked impatiently.

"Uh, it doesn't matter." Spencer told her, giving Hanna her best fake smile. The girls exchanged suspicious looks, Spencer knew that they could tell she was keeping something from them. It takes a liar to know a liar.

"I'm tired," Spencer pushed on, sighing heavily. "Not to be rude, but could we continue this conversation tomorrow?"

The girls nodded, gathering their things. They knew Spencer had other reasons for cutting their meeting short other than fatigue, but they weren't going to push it. There was no point.

After they left Spencer looked down at the note, re-reading it countless times. Despite escaping Mona, there was no way she had escaped Mona and -A. This game was just beginning.

She'd made her decision. It had taken a leg-scorching fire, days locked in a mental hospital and a dead ex-boyfriend to make her choice, to at least those things got her there. Life is a game, and Spencer had made the rookie's mistake of playing by the rules. She, Aria, Hanna and Emily always played by the rules while -A had a league of their own, twisting and changing the rules as they went. Mona had actually enlightened Spencer. Because now she realised - if you can't beat them, join them.

* * *

Toby Cavanaugh dumped his bag bitterly on the rosewood table, slumping down onto a chair, scowling at the petite brunette sitting across him, who simply gave him an amused glance in return.

"That was unnecessary." he said, glowering at her. "What was the honest to God point in that?"

"I told you." she hummed, "that bitch needed to learn her lesson."

"By burning Radley to the ground?" Toby growled, fixing his blue eyes accusingly at Mona. "People have _died_."

"You should be glad we're giving you a second chance." Mona hissed back, narrowing her eyes. "Had this been my decision we would've left you in that room to rot."

"You always talk about 'your decision' not being final. When will you tell me who Red Coat actually is?"

"When you have proved yourself," Mona spat.

"_Proved myself_?" Toby hissed, "I set fire to a fucking building!"

"Don't think that changes much. Just because we don't have any proof you got Spencer out, doesn't mean we won't find any. And when Red Coat finds out, she won't give you a second chance."

"If you dare try and make her a part of this I swear-"

"Swear what, Toby?" Mona laughed, her voice dripping with mockery. "What will you be able to do?"

Toby was silent, because he knew there was nothing he could do. He'd just set fire to a building. Not by his choice, sure, but he'd still set fire to a building. _She_ could be dead. The prospect of her death sent shivers down her spine. Over his dead body, would she be dead.

Did it hurt to pretend he didn't love her? Of course it did. But throughout his life, he learned the only way was to smile, and pretend he was alright. Maybe, as time went by, he'd start to believe it. That would certainly be the less painful option.

**So that's the end of that. The next chapter will be up probs next weekend, but in the meantime I may be starting an AU entitled "A Kiss with a Fist". Can you guess what that will be about? ;) Reviews are like sunshine... :3 ~Izzy**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N - Hey guys! So it's been, what? 10000 years? Yeah sorry, I kinda got caught up in my AU _C'est Dommage_ (Which you guys should check out ;D) but really I have no accuse. The sad thing is I won't be update again for over a week, since I'm going on vacation! BUT I might update on the Sunday I get back, if I get enough reviews...**

**Pleaaase forgive if this chapter is crappy, I didn't have time to proof-read it properly :P**

* * *

Light bounced off the blindingly white walls and into her eyes. She squinted, unable to take in the pale glare. She tried to move her hand; but something hard and rubber pulled it back to the scratchy canvas mattress. Her eyes ascended to a tall figure hovering over her, it's features not dissimilar to her own. The figure blurred into focus, and Spencer exhaled when she saw it was Veronica Hastings.

The rest of the room sharpened – and Spencer could see the grey, spotless door, the frail plastic chair beside her, and the lifeless azure duvet wrapped around her slight form.

"Mom…" she rasped, slumping back into her pillow.

Her mother gave her a gentle smile, and tucked a piece of stray hair behind her ear.

"How are you feeling, sweetie?" she asked tentatively.

"Tired." Spencer answered, her voice a little still husky and exhausted, most likely from the lack of use in the past few days. Whenever friends or family chose to visit her, she would push the conversation onto them, while she sat in her bed, passively staring out of the miniscule window by her bed. Her mind, undoubtedly, was occupied by more engulfing things, such as the pregnancy that still remained unknown to her mother, father, sister, friends, and ex-boyfriend. She struggled to find a way to unveil her darkest secret yet, without her mother subsequently disowning her.

She knew how people treated teenage mothers – herself included. Modern society tended to throw words such as 'whore' or 'slut' more often than was necessary, often assuming that being raped made you a slut. However, in her own case, Spencer had no one to blame but herself. She could save herself some judgement and claim the conception of the child wasn't consented on her part – but she knew her parents would interrogate every man in the state of Pennsylvania until they found the non-existent assaulter.

Her friends would figure out who the father was almost as soon as she told them – and a likely prospect would be for them to never talk to her again. Which for Spencer – would be less than convenient, considering she was on the brink of sanity _with_ her friends, and God only knew where she'd be without them.

Her mother seemed slightly out of character; not boring her with countless stories that she didn't care about. She was slightly distant – repeatedly looking out the window and dropping her gaze.

There was a slightly awkward pause between her and her mother whilst she was gathering her thoughts – and Spencer hastily asked her how her day had been. Veronica waved her hands vaguely.

"Fine, I came in to see you a couple of hours ago, I've been waiting for you to wake up since."

"You should've woken me up!" Spencer insisted, "I can't let you just sit awaiting my consciousness."

"It was fine…" her mother said, her voice clearly less than certain, "But the good news is your doctor says you should be allowed to go home by early tomorrow. He said there were no major health issues, but…"

Spencer's heart plummeted to her stomach, her vision going hazy. She wobbled a little in her sitting position – eventually sinking into the comfort of her pillows. She could almost hear the faint ringing of a warning siren.

"He said – they couldn't give you particular drugs because – you had particular health conditions and your body couldn't… tolerate it."

Spencer gulped, her eyes falling to her hands. They were scarred, scorched and burned from the fire.

"He said – that you couldn't take that sort of thing – " Veronica inhaled sharply, careful of her phrasing, "He said… _the baby_ couldn't tolerate it."

Her eyes rested on Spencer – whose eyes were fixated on something far and distant, acting oblivious to her mother's words.

"The doctor…. presumed I knew…." She said softly, placing a gentle hand on her daughter's shoulder. "I'm presuming… its Toby's?"

Toby. The word felt like a jagged blade running down her heart, and she attempted to cling to the small feeling of sanctuary and peace she had left – to no avail. Every drop of sanity she had attempted to gather was dispersing, all at the utter of his name. A name that haunted her dreams, possessed her thoughts and engulfed her being. His name ran through her veins and mind… he was part of her. And with him, part of her had died.

"Yes…" she whimpered, her voice frail like a child's, "mommy, please don't hate me…"

Veronica Hastings stifled a small laugh.

"Hate you?" she sniffed, "you're my daughter, honey. Nothing in the entire world could ever make me hate you."

"Doesn't it ruin the Hastings' reputation?" Spencer asked, giving her mother a tight smile.

Veronica chuckled quietly. "Frankly, the Hastings' reputation can be a bitch."

Spencer stuck her brow up skeptically at her mother's uncharacteristic language.

"I- I" Spencer stuttered, words escaping her for the first time in her life. There was so much she had to say – yet the ability to formulate words had somehow detached from her – so all she could do was to stammer and attempt to say something. "I… can't talk about this now…"

Veronica's dark stare dropped, and she gave her daughter an understanding nod accompanied with a reassuring squeeze. "It's okay honey. We'll discuss it later when you're feeling better."

"Yeah…" the brunette mumbled vaguely, giving her mother a small smile. Veronica got up from her perch on Spencer's bed, picked up her bag, and exited through the door of her room.

Her mother had probably been softer on her, considering she had just spent about two weeks in a mental hospital, mourning the loss of her late-boyfriend.

Spencer awaited the 'click' that confirmed her mother's departure, her eyes following her out intently. As soon as she was certain Veronica was out of sight and earshot, Spencer snapped up, swinging her slender legs out of the hospital bed. As soon as she was on her feet, she wobbled. She hadn't properly stood in two days, and the weight of body on her much weaker legs caused her to sit urgently back down.

She had to leave. She couldn't stay slumped in that hospital bed, knowing that she sure as hell wasn't supposed to escape the fiery inferno that engulfed Radley Sanatorium. She had to find Mona – and tell her she was in. Instead of lying in a hospital bed, like a pig awaiting slaughter, she had to take down –A from the inside. She was baffled the idea had escaped her earlier. Perhaps fragments of her mind really were slipping away from her.

After a minute or so, Spencer was back on her feet, frailly hobbling over to a small looking glass on her bedside table. She grabbed it, staring, mesmerized by her unfamiliar reflection.

The girl who stared back's skin was a sickly white, tinged grey. Her lifeless mocha eyes were shadowed by purple bags, and her cheekbones, once sculpted and well-formed, were now sharp and unhealthily dramatic. Her chapped lips were cast into a natural malcontent frown – her thin face framed by an unruly mass of knotted, tangled hair.

Spencer placed the mirror back on the table, noticing her pasty fingers were trembling. She pressed her palms to the midway of her chest, shocked to feel every sharp, prominent ribs underlying her skin. She looked like a ghost, an echo of the girl she once was. Mad, tortured and broken beyond repair.

She fumbled with the drawer of the desk, opening it to find a few medical supplies, Vaseline, and some hair ties. Grabbing a hair tie, she swooped her disobedient hair from her face.

She looked down to see she was still dressed in the depressingly bland hospital gown that hung limply from her skeletal form. She couldn't leave the hospital in this thing. She'd attract attention in a flash.

Spencer made a mad, ravenously animal noise in frustration. Where the hell was she supposed to get normal clothes? She pounded a small fist on the surface of the desk – taking the responding pain as a rush of adrenaline. It was almost satisfying, the pain. It was something that brought her momentarily out of numbness – a place she'd been long since trapped.

The small slam her fist had made while impacting the wood had been loud enough to drown out the creak of the door opening and closing. Spencer was so caught in frustration – she didn't catch the reflection of the small, raven-haired girl tip-toeing into her room.

"Wouldn't want to disturb you, moaning Myrtle, but our business is not yet complete. I'd love to catch up, wouldn't you?"

Spencer spun around, greeted by Mona Vanderwaal's complacent smirk.

* * *

_He attempted to subdue his heavy breathing, which was already attracting the attention of some passers by. To most – his fuming exterior and stony eyes would be enough to scare them off – but not Mona Vanderwaal. The petite brunette bounced at his side – struggling to match her small, bouncy skips to his striding steps. _

"_Hey Toby!" she said sweetly, fixing him intently with honey-brown eyes._

"_I'm not in the mood, Mona." Toby murmured, staring ahead. In all honesty, he was surprised she was talking to him. The two had never spoken before today – and all he knew her as was a friend of Hanna's, former wannabe, and current it-girl of Rosewood High. He was the sort of person she wouldn't give a second look – especially since during his high school days he wasn't exactly at the height of popularity._

_She ignored his remark, and continued to follow him._

"_So, how's things, Toby?"_

_He shot her with a slightly bemused look, furrowing his brow. _

"_Why would you care?"_

_She shrugged, brushing the question off._

"_Are you still dating Spencer Hastings?" Mona suddenly asked._

_The comment caught Toby's attention, and he stopped dead._

"_Is it your business?" he asked icily._

_Most people would look awkwardly to the floor and change the subject. It was what Toby hoped Mona would do – as the subject was tender – as the revelation of Spencer and Wren being together was still fresh. Mona didn't look awkward though – she simply responded with a toothless smile._

"_I just think it's…. strange." Mona said delicately, tilting her head up to face him properly. The two were stood in the middle of the sidewalk – while others rushed past, occasionally cursing the two teens for obstructing their path._

"_Why would me being with Spencer be strange?" he asked, his irritated tone mingling with curiosity._

"_After all that Alison and her posse did to you – I just think it's odd you choose to date Spencer." Mona purred, looking down at her nails._

"_What do you mean 'after what they did to me'?" Toby interrogated, his heart stopping for a beat after hearing Mona's words. _

_She couldn't mean the Jenna thing, could she? No one knew about what really happened that night apart from Jenna, Spencer, Emily, Hanna, Aria and Alison – who had taken the secret to the grave._

_There was no way Mona could know._

_Mona's mouth twitched into a smirk, and she placed a manicured hand onto Toby's jacket shoulder. _

"_I know more than you'd think, Toby" she whispered smugly, "like how you weren't the one to set that garage on fire and blind poor Jenna." _

_Toby flinched back, instinctively backing away from the petite girl. To his surprise, Mona grabbed him by the hand, pulling him into a shady alleyway on the side of the sidewalk._

"_How do you know that?" Toby hissed._

"_I know a guy. I also know exactly __**why**__ you took the blame, too."_

_An icy trail descended down Toby's spine. "I didn't do anything – "_

"_Oh Toby, it wasn't what you were doing – it was __**who**__ you were doing."_

_Toby flushed, narrowing his eyes angrily at Mona, who simply grinned coyly back._

"_It wasn't what it looked like, okay?" he insisted, "I don't care what Alison or whoever told you – "_

"_Alison?" Mona sputtered, rolling her eyes dramatically, "not in a million years. I have my own sources, and yes I know, you never laid a innocent little finger on jerk-Jenna"_

_The words 'sources' scared Toby a little. How had Mona found out about he and Jenna's history?  
_

"_Look, I didn't come here to take a trip down memory lane." Mona said, her voice a little softer. "The thing is – Spencer didn't break up with you because of Downton Grabby, she broke up with you because she wanted to keep you safe."_

_Toby cocked his head in confusion, giving the brunette a puzzled glance. "What are you talking about?"_

_Mona bit her lip, giving Toby a crooked smirk._

"_Look at it this way, Cavanaugh." She said briskly, "you're not the only one who got trampled while in those bitches' path."_

_Toby cringed at the word._

"_Me and some other people – we could do with some people like you. People who wouldn't mind giving Hastings' and her posse a taste of their own medicine."_

_She fumbled in her bag, retrieving a small pad and pen. She ripped out a page, before scrawling down a number. She winked, handing him the paper._

"_Call me," she said playfully, then stalking off. Toby looked, puzzled, at the scrap of paper in his hand. Hesitating, he tucked it into his pocket._

* * *

"Look what the cat dragged in." Spencer sneered, "Mona Vanderwaal."

Mona perched smugly on the table, "Wouldn't get too cocky, Hastings. Right now you look more like something the cat dragged in, after going through a fair bit of shrubbery."

"Did you come all the way here just to take cheap shots?" Spencer snapped, "don't you have ulterior motives?"

Mona responded with a playful smirk. "Just came here to remind you that just because you got out of our little incubator doesn't mean you're off the hook. The deal is still on, Hastings."

"I wasn't supposed to escape Radley, was I?" Spencer growled. "I wouldn't join you're petty little team, so you nearly kill over a hundred people?"

Mona gave Spencer a dispassionate shrug. "I guess you see the damage I'm capable of."

Spencer snorted. "Right. What you lack in height you sure make up in evil."

Mona appeared to take it as complement, smiling modestly. "I do try."

"But we both know you didn't pull this little affair off on your own. Let's be honest, Vanderwaal, you may be an evil genius, but you don't like to get your hands dirty. So tell me, now that you killed Toby, who did you get to do the dirty work this time?"

Mona's smile vanished. "I did this by myself, bitch." She hissed.

"Oh come on, Mona." Spencer teased, "You know I'm not stupid. Who's the hierarchy?"

"I'd tell you, sweetie." The petite girl simpered, "but then I'd have to kill you."

Spencer glared down at Mona, who smiled sweetly back.

"Now, Hastings." Mona said in mock-innocence, "look at everything that's happened since our little trip to the mountains? And the clock still ticks…"

A lot **had** happened. They'd met CeCe. Garett had been taken to jail. Garett had been killed, Maya had been killed, Nate tried to kill Emily. She found out Toby was A. She'd got pregnant, passing the only test she'd ever wanted not to. Toby's body had been found, and a countless number of other things.

Spencer stepped forward, cocking her head at the smaller girl. "You don't have to ask me again, Mona." She responded, "I'm in."

* * *

Toby cringed at the slam of the caravan door, turning to see a tiny girl of 5'2 step through, shuddering from the cold, cursing under her breath at the icy cold. Her black attire clung to her, drenched from downpour.

"Remind me _never _to go out in weather like this." Mona hissed, "If I stayed outside longer I would've drowned."

Toby couldn't help but smile at Mona's frustration – not denying it made him feel better in the short term.

"Don't look so smug!" Mona snapped, "I'm the one going out and actually doing something!"

Toby met here gaze, his sapphire eyes narrowing to slits. "I don't see you going out and setting things alight. As far as I can tell – you were safely watching from outside with a bucket of popcorn."

Mona's frown twisted into a smirk. "Yeah, on that note…"

She slumped onto the bland, beige couch squashed in the corner. "I just went down there to check out the damage," Mona grinned evilly. "Looks like you killed two birds with one stone."

Toby sensed a warning signal, seeing the smugly content look in Mona's honey colored eyes. "What are you talking about?" he asked quietly.

The corners of Mona's mouth twitched upwards. "Well, the original intention was simply just scare those bitches."

"But?" Toby demanded, his eyes flashing.

"But…" Mona murmured, pursing her lips, "looks like you got that Hastings bitch out of the way at the same time – "

And suddenly he had her by her collar, pressed to the wall of the caravan. His eyes flashing furiously, "what did you say?" he demanded.

"She's dead!" Mona screamed, a twisted smile forming on her round face. "THE BITCH IS DEAD!"

"You're lying!" Toby yelled, attempting to hold back the freely falling tears. "I – I _got her out_."

"So you admit to it?" Mona smirked, "too late, Cavanaugh. She died in hospital. Her lungs were damaged."

Toby didn't respond, simply tightened his grip on Mona Vanderwaal's throat.

"You better tell me this is a sick joke – otherwise there is nothing to stop me from snapping your neck."

Mona pouted, "What's the point, Toby?" Mona sneered, "you're the one that killed her."

"Th-that's not true…" Toby insisted, attempting to conceal the faltering in his voice.

"_Please_," Mona insisted, "had you not set the place on fire she'd still be alive."

Toby dropped Mona, who slumped to the ground, massaging her neck.

Her turned away from Mona, not wanting her to see the silent tears crawling down his cheek. He wiped them hastily away – not wanting to appear weak. Or – at least – weaker than he already was.

"Think about it," Mona hummed, "do you really want to use the 'you told me to' argument against me? If I told you to jump off a cliff, would you? _Are you that weak?"_

Weakness.

Something he'd forever been trying to not be – despite what people told him. There had been only one other person who'd called him weak in his entire life – Jenna.

Suddenly he could feel it again – her hot breath against his chest, the stinging feeling as her hand met his cheek. _"You're worthless, worthless and weak…"_

A clap of thunder brought him to his senses. "I'm leaving," he murmured, opening the steel door of the caravan, greeting the wet, outside night with open arms. He didn't care f he was cold – hell, it was almost desirable. To escape numbness.

Because that's what he felt – numb.

Maybe he was becoming a sociopath. Part of him hoped he was – the prospect was less painful.

He wished he could flush her out. Because she was dead. Spencer Hastings was dead – because of him.

* * *

Rain drummed on his truck, creating an irregular beat that harmonized with the swishing of his windscreen wipers.

He swerved a little on the road, ignoring the beeps of angry drivers. He didn't care – it was all just meaningless noise. He didn't know where he was going, only that it had to be as far away from Rosewood as possible. He was running – not just from Mona and Big –A, but from her. Her ghost followed him, and he couldn't shake her off. She followed him everywhere; he wanted to scream at her that she was dead, and she was supposed to be dead. He did couple of times.

Honestly, he blamed the whole thing on being completely and utterly intoxicated.

* * *

**A/N - Sooo, Toby thinks Spence is dead, and Spence thinks Tobes is dead. Plot twist, eh? The next chapter will mark the end of a sort of 'part 1'. 'Part 2' will take place a few months later, and will be A LOT longer. All the real drama will kick in then. **

**So, as I said, I won't be able to update for awhile. I hate begging for reviews, but if I have 15 more reviews by the time I get back (22nd of April) I'll get it up on that day. If I don't... it could be longer... like a week :O**

**So tell me if you loved it or hated it. Thank you babies! ~Izzy **


	7. Chapter 7

_Is it like this_

_In death's other kingdom_

_Waking alone_

_At the hour when we are_

_Trembling with tenderness_

_Lips that would kiss_

_Form prayers to broken stone._

_**-The Hollow Men, T.S Elliot**_

* * *

**A/N –**

**Hi there.**

**I know it's been 4839439 years but I've been busy. This chapter is kinda short and kinda crap as I wrote it in a rush plus I'm sick soooo**

**And I only proof read it once.**

**Oh and I'm sorry in advance. I love Spoby. I worship Spoby. My life is Spoby. But sometimes Spoby are fucking idiots. I don't own The Hollow Men, T.S Elliot, Spencer, Toby or PLL (though I wish I did) or anything but Jem and Stephanie.**

* * *

_Kept my whole life in a suitcase_

_Never really stayed in one place_

_Maybe that's the way it should be,_

_You know I live my life like a gypsy._

_I've said it so many times_

_I would change my ways,_

_No never mind_

_God knows I've tried…_

_**-Call Me, Shinedown**_

* * *

His hands had always been scarred. Thin lines were as frequent on his hands as veins, each one carrying it's own memories.

Thick cuts were littered across his hands from work, when he caught himself on a piece of machinery, or something along those lines. Glancing at four small scars in a neat row of three, he could practically taste stale sweat and feel Jenna's sharp, red nails digging into the flesh of his arm, drawing a bead of crimson blood. Others reminded him of the sharp, cool feeling of a razor against his wrist, and others of the stabbing pain of the fork in his hand after he had accidentally shoved a kid from his reform school.

But if he had learned one thing, it was to wear scars like armor, not like blows.

His hands were gripped around the icy-cold crystal glass; filled with a clear, foul tasting liquid. On a different night he would have shoved the stuff away, cringing at the foul stench of alcohol. Now he welcomed it, almost as much as he welcomed the burning feeling as it ran down his throat.

The bartender eyed him suspiciously, his narrow eyes falling to the glass of liquor clutched in between his hands.

'What?' Toby snapped at the man, furrowing his brows fiercely, 'am I breaking some sort of rule?'

The guy dropped his gaze, and Toby could have sworn the faintest smile had crossed his lips.

For a teenager, Toby really didn't drink that much. But during the past week, he really had been contemplating the benefits of alcoholism. He made a mental note: _'First Benefit – you can do dumb shit and later blame it on being really, really pissed.'_

He took another shot with a flick of his wrist, relishing the slight buzzing sensation.

And that was when she sat down. Long, dark hair cascading down her shoulders. Round, coffee-colored eyes and a slight, willowy build. Her face was thin, and her lips were quirked in the smallest of smiles. She looked about eighteen.

The sight made him look up, a flicker of hope, remorse, guilt and pain welled up in the back of his throat as he noticed it wasn't her – her face was too round and her eyes too light. But her slight resemblance to Spencer Hastings was enough to make him look.

'What?' the Spencer-clone said lightly, 'why are staring at me like that?'

Toby shook his head, his eyes flitting down to the mahogany bar where his hands rested, 'no reason,' he admitted, 'you just remind me of someone.'

'Who?' The Spencer-clone asked quizzically, her jaw tensing and her lips pursing.

'Someone I used to know…. a long time ago.' He told her, the words tasting bitter and foreign. '_She was more than just someone' _he thought.

The girl was silent, looking tactfully away.

After a pause, she murmured 'you lost her, didn't you?'

This made him look up once more, his eyes meeting hers.

'What makes you say that?' he asked icily.

She shrugged, a strand of chestnut hair falling into her face, 'you look really fucking guilty right now, that's why.'

He flushed, managing a smile, 'is it really that obvious?'

'Yeah,' she said, grinning at him broadly, 'and don't fucking deny it, because it seem to me like you're a terrible liar.'

'I wouldn't say I'm a terrible liar,' me muttered, 'I had her convinced long enough.'

The Spencer-clone nodded slowly, giving him a playful smirk, 'ah, I see how it is,' she studied her nails with exaggerated care, 'so how did it play out? Cheating?'

Toby snorted. 'Cheating? I wish. Nothing that simple.'

'I find that patronizing. How complicated can a break-up be?'

Toby studied her for a ling second, 'what's your name?' he asked.

'Stephanie.'

'Well, Stephanie, if you think of cheating as the height of complication, you have certainly never navigated the twisted labyrinth that is my life.' Toby told her, giving her a trace of a smile. It was a start – but it almost felt unfamiliar after not smiling at all for the past seven days.

Her eyebrow quirked, 'you're essentially saying cheating is the basic multiplication of break-ups, and whatever the hell you did the Pythagoras theorem?'

'You did _not_ just compare my love life to a Greek mathematical equation.'

'What can I say?' Stephanie smirked, 'I have a soft spot for geometry.'

Toby's smile faded for a second. Her words reminded him of Spencer.

'_God fucking dammit,'_ he thought, _'if she's gone, why do I see her everywhere?'_

'So handsome, angst-ridden stranger,' Stephanie said slyly, 'I'm going to ask you for two things. Your name, and a drink.'

Toby smiled wryly back at her, 'Toby. And what can I get you?'

'_Benefit Two'_ he thought to himself_, 'flirting with attractive strangers and being too drunk to consider the consequences._

* * *

Her hands drew the mug close to her chest, although the heat had long since leeched into the air. She was tired, and twin purple bags hung under her eyes, completing the whole 'depressed panda' look she had going for her during the past few days. Her hair was so tangled it could've housed a small family of birds, but Wren didn't seem to care.

He made pleasant conversation with her, and didn't look at here with a mix of pity and self-righteousness that she had grown accustomed to.

To be fair, she hadn't exactly informed him on the whole baby conundrum.

It was just coffee, he had reminded her frequently, but the both of them knew it was more than that. They had a history – and neither of them could deny it, they were clearly past the point of 'just coffee.'

But for Spencer – a free coffee was a free coffee.

'How have your family been?' he asked lightly.

Spencer shrugged non-committedly, 'they've been looser than usual, which by Hastings' standards means accepting 90% or below and only having family meeting twice a week.'

He chuckled, his warm brown eyes soft and gentle. So different to Toby's, Spencer thought, which were made up of so many shades of blue it was impossible to count, and bled an icy exterior and walls of steel. If you were lucky enough the walls would fall, but that was always exclusively saved for Spencer or Emily.

She shook her head slightly, as if trying to rid her mind of him. She wasn't allowed to think about Toby – or his eyes.

When she looked up she noticed Wren had paused, looking at her thoughtfully.

'What?'

Wren shook his head, 'I've known you for over a year and a half, and I'm still trying to figure you out.'

Spencer flushed, 'I'm not as complicated as I like to make people think.'

Wren smiled again, looking down into his cup of coffee. The coffee was the same color as his eyes.

'I think you are.'

Spencer knew she should have smiled back, or laughed, or something, but instead she just looked past Wren and sniffed slightly. She wondered what he would think once he knew – knew about the baby, or about 'A'.

'I'm sorry, Wren.' She whispered, dropping her gaze.

'Sorry for what?'

'I'm sorry, we can't carry on with…. with whatever _this_ is,' she sniffed again, wrapping tightly onto the cup of lukewarm coffee pressed in her palms, 'and I'm sorry.'

She expected him to frown, or look upset, but instead he just smiled into the table. 'So you're breaking up with me, but we were never even together?'

'No, that's not it,' Spencer told him, 'it's just… everybody I ever care about end up getting hurt. Or…'

'Or what, Spencer?' he asked, brows furrowed in concern. Spencer wished they weren't in a place so crowded.

'They end up hurting me.' She said simply.

Wren looked down, looking thoughtful. Suddenly he took his hand and wrapped it in hers, squeezing it softly. His hands were warm, and in hers, look somewhat, _right._

But not right _enough_.

'I don't know what the carpenter did to you, Spencer, but all I know is that I would _never_ hurt you like he did.'

Spencer looked back at him, surveying his face, 'you say that now,' she said, 'but things change. He said that too, you know.'

'Yes, but Spencer, I mean it.'

Her chin wobbled, and she bit her lip.

_Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry._

'He's dead,' she said suddenly. Wren's face transformed into a mask of shock, 'they found his body…. in the woods…'

'Spencer, I'm so sorry.' Wren said. His words seemed sincere.

She shook her head. Her mouth filled with a bitter, metallic taste. She had bitten her lip too hard.

'But Wren, you and I, we can't be together. I'm-' she caught herself mid-sentence, feeling a thick lump in her throat, 'Wren, I'm pregnant.'

There.

She said it.

He dropped her hand, 'Spencer…'

She stood up, her chair squeaking loudly, 'I need to go,' she mumbled, fumbling under the seat for her bag. She walked away from the silver café table, not daring to look back, but feeling his eyes on the back of her neck. Her eyes prickled.

And then she heard his voice behind her, chasing after her.

'Spencer, wait!' he called.

She chose to ignore him, but he caught her by her wrist and spun her around.

'Spencer, please don't leave. I want to talk to you.'

'Don't even try, Wren,' she snapped, her voice shaking, 'don't even pretend like you won't end up hating me just like everybody else.'

'Spencer,' he said softly, 'I could _never_ hate you.'

She knew what he was going to say. She blinked her tears away furiously, 'please,' she croaked, 'don't.'

'Spencer Hastings,' he said, 'I love you with all my heart, and have since the day I met you.'

She look up at him, taking in his eyes, his hair, his smile, everything about him, and looking for love somewhere, buried at the deepest pit or the darkest corner, but she couldn't.

'I'm sorry, Wren. I wish I could be with you and love you, but I can't, because…'

'Because you still love him.' Wren finished. His eyes fell, heartbroken, upset, disappointed. She didn't like seeing him hurt.

She wanted to hug him, comfort him, or at least say _something_, but all she did was stand there.

_Why the fuck did she have to go and ruin everything by telling him?_

'I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry.'

And then she turned her back and ran, ran, ran and ran, and hoped all her troubles would be left behind.

She wished she wasn't helping Mona.

She wished she wasn't pregnant.

She wished she could love Wren

But most of all, she wished she had never met _him_.

But we can't always get what we want.

* * *

In Toby's experience, alleys were dead useful.

You could hide in them, exchange illegal stuff, cry (if that was what you so desired) or passionately make out with a complete stranger while intoxicated with more alcohol than blood.

The latter in his case.

Stephanie was pressed to the wall of the alley, her legs wrapped around his waist. The heavens had long since opened, unleashing a long, heavy downpour. His shirt clung to his back; and their wet faces slid against each other's, in a world without consequence, without remorse or thought, infinite and terrible…

Until they were interrupted by a Chinese couple who walked past, shouting something in Mandarin. Probably something along the lines of 'get a room.'

And that was when the world came crashing back, each excruciating memory at a time.

He let go of Stephanie's legs, and she fell ungracefully to the floor, landing on her butt.

'Ow,' she grumbled, 'you didn't major in chivalry, did you?'

He mumbled an apology. She got to her feet, and he turned away.

_What the fuck did he just do?_

How did things get so messed up? In the tangled mess of unfortunate events that was his life, where the hell did things get so screwed up?

'I'm sorry, Stephanie,' she said, turning back to the brunette, who was soaked to the skin. Looking at her now, she didn't really look like Spencer at all. Spencer was leaner, and Stephanie's skin wasn't as fair, nor her eyes as dark. It must have been the alcohol playing tricks.

'I'm sorry Stephanie,' he said, 'for… this.'

She just shrugged, 'don't be,' she hugged her arms across her chest, 'you needed a rebound, so did I. Don't be sorry.'

Toby looked at her quizzically, and she grinned back, 'what can I say? You look like a guy I used to date. Maybe it's the eyes.'

And then she was walking away from him, out of the alley and down the street, leaving him behind, dumb-stricken.

He came to his senses, chasing after her, 'Stephanie! He called.

She turned, dark hair plastered to her head, mascara running down her face, rain suspended from her lashes like tiny beads.

He caught up with her, taking off his jacket and wrapping it around her shaking shoulders. 'Do you want a ride or something?' he looked up, the sky was a rich, dark blue, dotted with illuminated stars hidden by wispy clouds of silver, 'it's dark.'

She shook her head, 'I'm fine,' she insisted.

She began to back away from him, turning away. He caught her by the arm, 'Stephanie,' he said, having to yell through the thick drumming of the rain on the concrete road, 'that guy - it's his loss.'

She gave him a small smile before heading down the street, hips swaying slightly. Soon she was just a dot on the horizon, lit by hundreds of yellow street lamps.

He knew he should have chased after her and insisted on giving her a lift, but instead he just watched her disappear, then ducking into the shadows of a near by building.

He took his phone out of his pocket, dialing a number he hadn't called in months. He raised it to his ear. It rang five times before it was answered by a deep voice, 'hello?' It asked. Toby breathed a sigh of relief.

'Jem?' he said, having to yell through the heavy downpour, 'it's me – Toby.'

* * *

Jem's truck pulled up around 1am – grinding to a steady halt at the side of the sidewalk. The pattering of raindrops was still deafening.

Toby saw a grinning face through the gray of the rain-splattered windows. He walked over, opening the slippery door handle, slumping in the leather seat next to Jem.

Jem was tall, taller than Toby, but much thinner. His skinny arms were covered in sleeves of tattoos, and Toby noticed a few additions since he last saw him. His hair was dyed the color of a midnight sky.

Toby had met Jem in reform school. He was outgoing and popular, everything Toby wasn't, but somehow they managed to get along well. Jem was the one who had convinced him to get his tattoo. Jem told him he was in for stealing a car, which he promptly crashed. Toby wasn't sure about how he felt about having him drive him.

'Tobias Cavanaugh,' Jem started, 'you look so different, yet so the same as you were two years ago.'

'James Cropley, you look _exactly_ the same as you did two years ago.' He replied, he looked to Jem's arms, 'but with more tattoos,' he added.

'So why, Tobias, have you summoned me at this ungodly hour?'

'I'd like a ride, please.'

Jem rolled his eyes, 'your wish is my command, Mr. Cavanaugh,' he looked out the window, 'you haven't got your own?'

Toby hesitated before saying 'nope.'

It wasn't exactly a lie – the A team's SUV wasn't exactly his, besides, he couldn't stand driving the thing. He could practically hear the rattling of skeletons in the trunk.

'Do you want me to take you home?'

'No,' Toby said, 'as far from 'home' as possible, please.'

Jem gave him a smirk, 'so what are you running from this time, Cavanaugh?'

Toby looked up at the blue-haired boy with a start, 'what makes you think I'm running.'

'Because I can read it on your pretty little face,' Jem said, before adding 'and I forgot to say, Cavanaugh, you clean up pretty nice after all this time.'

Toby rolled his eyes, 'I'm so glad you like it. Your approval's all I think about.'

Jem grinned again, 'you didn't answer my question.'

'What question?'

'What are you running from? Or should I say, _who_.'

Toby hesitated, 'the past,' he said finally.

'You can't run forever, you know that right?'

'I can fucking try,' Toby snapped, 'I'm pretty fast.'

They didn't say much for the rest of the journey, so Toby settled on listening to the pattering of the rain and the swish of the windscreen wipers.

* * *

**Like it? Hate it? Review anyway.**

**Thanks to Irma for getting me off my ass and telling me to write this chapter. ILYSM**

**Kisses, Izzy**

**P.S – only seventeen more days *yelp* **


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